Gregory
by Space Toaster
Summary: A series of short snippets about Gregory Wilson before the events that led to his transformation into Stray Dog.


_Disclaimer: Rule of Rose and all the characters involved belong to Atlus and not me. Amelia and all scenarios with her are my own creation. Although I do wish I owned Gregory, though…what a fox! _

Gregory  
By Space Toaster

1. Amelia

He was afraid of her. Gregory Wilson was a huge man, capable of ripping doors right off their hinges if he needed to. He feared no man, and yet this tiny woman intimidated him. It was probably because she was so beautiful. Amelia Ryan had light hair, sort of a golden brown color and the most clear blue eyes, set in a delicate face, like a doll's. She would smile at him and say hello and his mouth would go dry. He took her hand gingerly because it was so small compared to his, he worried he might crush it. They were soft, but callused like his, and she smelled like earth and the flower gardens she tended. He took a deep breath and wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers before he got down on one knee.

She said yes.

2. Roses

"Don't the roses smell lovely, Gregory?"

Amelia looked over at her husband, who had just come back from the fields. He stopped to take off his hat and wipe the sweat from his brow, but froze. She tilted her head at him, only making more of her beautiful hair fall from its unraveling bun.

"…Gregory?"

The way his name sounded on her soft voice made him feel weak. The way she looked, surrounded by roses in full bloom made him feel something else as well. He stepped closer to her and knelt down so he could look into her eyes.

"Say my name again, love."

She seemed confused, but smiled and played along. "Gregory." There was a delighted squeal as he wrapped his powerful arms around her waist and gently tugged her to the ground with him.

3. Name

"Gregory, it's kicking." Amelia said, prompting her husband to rush over to her where she sat on the sofa. Kneeling beside her he placed a hand on her belly, feeling the tiny kicks of their child moving around.

"What will we name it?" He asked, looking up at his wife.

"Hm…I've always loved the letter J. Joshua, if it's a boy."

He nodded his approval. "A girl?"

Amelia pursed her lips in thought, and he felt an urge to kiss her. "Something lovely. Jennifer, perhaps."

He kissed her softly. "Jennifer it is, love."

4. Wife

He contained himself, somehow when the doctor told him she died. Gregory walked into the room, just to see her one last time. She looked asleep, pain stabbed into his chest remembering all the nights he saw her head resting on his shoulder, breath gently tickling his neck. Once last time, he bowed his head and kissed his wife good night. Only when they all left, did he let out a roar of pain and put his fist through the wall.

5. Son

He never realized the baby would be so tiny. His pink head, bare save for a wisp of blond hair fit right in the palm of his hand. A tiny fist curled up next to his chin was even smaller. Gregory felt so strange, holding his newborn son in his arms. His son… The baby yawned and sucked on his fist. He bowed down and gently as he was able pressed a light kiss on his small, small forehead.

"Joshua…my son…"

6. Stray Dog

Stray Dog… That was Joshua's favorite game, and Gregory always had time to play with his son. He get down on all fours, giving Joshua only a little bit of time to run before taking off after him. His boy would laugh in both excitement and terror as his father lumbered after him, barking and growling in a surprisingly realistic way. He always caught Joshua in the end, of course. He would lunge and scoop him up, and Joshua would laugh and squeal while he pretended to eat him.

"I'll grind you up and make you into soup, little pea!" He would growl, messing up Joshua's golden-brown hair, the same color as his mother's. His son would giggle and try to fix his hair while he was carried inside on his father's shoulders.

"I'm not a pea, Papa! I'm a boy!"

"Maybe so, but you're my little pea."

After a brief bath, it was story time. They sat down on the couch in Gregory's study with Joshua on his knee and he read one of the many books he wrote and drew for him. One of their favorites was The Little Princess. The stories were brief though, so he read a few of them. Joshua loved the sound of his father reading to him. His slow, deep voice never failed to help him nod off. He carried his sleepy son to his little bedroom, reciting his favorite poem while a blond head rested on his broad shoulder.

"Stray Dog walks the streets each day,  
Collecting peas as he walks to and fro  
Big peas, small peas,  
Every which kind of pea.  
Come Monday, he finds a pea.  
Come Tuesday, he bags the pea.  
Come Wednesday, he shows the pea to his son.  
Come Thursday, the pea kicks and screams.  
Come Friday, he grinds up the pea.  
Come Saturday, he buries the pea outside.  
The pea is in the ground,  
And by Sunday, it can't be found."

Joshua would smile sleepily before he was tucked in and kissed good night. He had gotten into the habit of checking on him about an hour later. Most often, he was curled up under his covers, only his head of blond hair visible. It was times like these where Gregory realized that one day his little boy would be all grown up. Someday he won't need a story to fall asleep. He would find his princess and run away with her. The mere thought made a knot form in his stomach, but he ignored it. He loved his son. There was nothing he could do that would make him think otherwise. He gave a small smile before closing Joshua's door.

"Good night, young pea."


End file.
